An English Werewolf in Paris
by sbrianson
Summary: Sirius takes Remus away for a romantic weekend in Paris. "PG-13" fic, rated "R" for Slash. Fluff, and then some.


An English Werewolf in Paris

Pairing: Remus Lupin / Sirius Black

Rating: "PG-13" story, officially rated "R" for slash content

DISCLAIMER: This story is fictional – that's F-I-C-T-I-O-N. It never happened, and is not real. It is the product of my own imagination. It contains descriptions of male slash (that's male/male homosexual relations). If you do not like this type of content, or if you find homosexuality or its practice offensive, please click the "Back" button or close your Internet browser NOW, and do not read any further. All characters and copyrights are owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers™ (AOL Time Warner), but this story is owned by me and is all my own work.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Referring to the second paragraph, the Author can assure you that it _is_ possible to walk on water, having done so himself! During the extreme winter months, the Baltic Sea in the area called the Gulf of Finland freezes over, and you can actually walk over the water from Helsinki, Finland to Tallinn, Estonia. It takes about an hour, and is a breathtaking,albeit very surreal(!), experience.  
For those who do not speak French, the phrase "Félicitations à vous toutes les deux! Félicitations aux couples heureax!" means "Congratulations to you both! Congratulations to the happy couple!"

* * *

It had been a fantastic weekend. They had seen the Eiffel Tower, the garden of the Château des Versailles, the Arc de Triomphe, and even the famous Cathédrale du Notre Dame. And for their last night in Paris, Sirius had taken him out to dine at a beautiful restaurant on the Champs d'Elysées. Remus Lupin loved France, though he loved Paris more.

Remus had seen so many of the greatest cities in the world. He had played snowball fights in Tallinn, he had listened to Mozart's "Le Nozze di F�garo" in Vienna, sailed along the streets of Venice and drunk coffee in Amsterdam. He had run with the bulls in Pamplona, walked on water from Helsinki, played in a jazz band in New Orleans and stood before the great Gates of Kiev. He had ridden the red busses of London, been chased through the centre of Belfast, quaffed beer in a hall in Münich, and he had even seen the sun set over Kampala. But he couldn't understand why, of all the places he had travelled to, he had never gotten around to seeing the magical city of Paris.

The restaurant was beautiful, decorated in shining banners of ruby, pearl and sapphire. Remus looked around the street where they were seated, for their table was outside the main restaurant on the Champs d'Elysées itself. In the background, he saw the Tower had been lit up for the evening, tonight in green, Remus's favourite colour. All around them, the stars were twinkling, shining down on the busy street, bathing it in an extra glow of magic. Almost as if they had come out for the happy couple. Beside them, a string quartet, accompanied by a piano, softly serenaded them with the gentle sounds of Pachelbel's "Canon", as several couples strolled down the street, the ladies looking jealously at Remus, the men trying to speed up before their partners noticed that they weren't being treated to such an evening.

"I love you," whispered the young werewolf.

"And I love you too," replied Sirius, pouring them each another glass of horrendously expensive Burgundy. He raised his glass. "A toast!" declared Sirius. "To us. We survived school and beyond. Despite all who said that it wouldn't last, and because of those who said it would. To magic, and to romance. To love, all its beauty, and its many forms. To _Paris_."

"To Paris." Remus said, as they clashed glasses, and drank from each other's cup, arms entwined.

"Sirius?" the taller man asked as they set their wine down on the table.

"Yes?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are we here?" Sirius smiled. He knew that life, especially due to fear and suspicions about werewolves, had paid a hard toll on Remus, and as a result he had developed a very low self-esteem. He needed to be reassured, a lot, that someone somewhere wasn't playing a big joke on him. 'High-maintenance', as James would have joked. But it was just another one of those quirky little habits that every lover learns to adore about their partner. To Sirius, Remus's insecurity was charming, even cute, as it only came on when Remus was at his happiest. As if he needed to check that it was alright before he could allow himself to relax and be happy.

"Because we went to Paris, love."

"Why did we come here?"

"Because we've never been here. That's why people go to new places, love. To see them."

"Why am I here?"

"Because I asked you to come to Paris, love."

"So why am I here with you?"

"Because I love you, and you wanted to come with me."

"You love me?"

"Yes, love. I love you. You know that."

"Really?"

"Really."

The pair of them took another drink, this time drinking from their own glasses.

"Are you happy, my love?" Sirius asked his partner,

"Of course I am. Do you _really_ need to ask?"

"I'm just worried about you, that's all."

"Whatever for?"

"Well, because of all those back home who are against us, who want to see us apart. All those who hate us for who we are."

"But none of it is important, Sirius. The people we love are behind us and support us, and that's all that matters."

"I know, Remus. I just want you to be happy, that's all."

"But I _am_ happy. There's really no need to worry!"

And Remus was right. He _was_ happy – happier than he had ever been in a very long while. He _loved_ Paris. Full of wonder and sparkle, glamour, life… But it wasn't just the place that he loved. It was the _freedom_. The way they could saunter along the streets without anyone recognising them. Nobody crossing the street at the site of him, knowing he was a werewolf. Nobody would give them conservative, disapproving frowns if they wanted to hold hands, or have a cuddle, or kiss…

Nobody thought, just because they both happened to be men, that the couple were freaks of nature in Paris.

"If only Lily could see us now," Remus sighed. "She'd be positively green with envy."

"I know," Sirius agreed. "Her and James were going away this weekend, too."

"Really? Where?"

"Prestatyn." Remus threw his head back and bayed with laughter at their friends' fate – a holiday in Pontin's in North Wales, while he and Sirius were enjoying an evening supper in the most romantic restaurant in France.

"You're beautiful when you laugh, Reemy, you know that?"

"Give over!"

"No, really." Sirius loved him when he laughed. The way his deep, bright blue eyes would light up, his mouth would curl into a mischievous little grin and just that once he knew that his love was happy, _really_ happy, away from the problems of the real world. And as the musicians started to play Pachelbel once more, he was surer than anything else that what he was about to do was right.

"Remus," he spoke softly, taking the other man's hand in his across the table. He was aware that some of the couples and families on the surrounding tables were turning to look at them, but he no longer cared whether he had an audience any more. "I love you. I love you with all my heart and soul. I love your eyes, your mind, your body and your whole _being_. I love you so much that it makes me weep. Whenever you aren't near me, I long for the very second that you will return, and when you do I can't bear to watch you go anywhere without me again. I want to share everything with you. My thoughts, by body, and my entire life. All that I have, I want to give to you, and all that I think, I want to tell you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to grow old and grey with you, and I never want _us_ to end." Wiping the tears from his eyes, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, red jewellery box. Opening it, he stood up from the table and approached his partner and, turning to face him, knelt before him on one knee. "You are my light, my guide and my purpose. You are the love of my life, and I want you. You and no other. Would you make me the happiest man alive, and agree to be my husband?" Sirius sobbed. "Remus John Lupin, will you marry me?"

"Oh, Sirius!" Remus spoke, hardly audible. "Yes. Yes I will." And at that, Sirius stood before him and placed the ring, a small, gold band with a stripe of tiny loose diamonds across its brow, upon Remus's trembling finger, the fit snug. He moved in to kiss his new fiancé, while all the people around them, from the two small children on their right to the elderly couple on their left, applauded and cheered and shouted their congratulations and the musicians bellowed "Félicitations à vous toutes les deux! Félicitations aux couples heureax!"

Remus beamed at his lover, feeling happier than he had ever done so before. Even happier than the night that he and Sirius had gotten together. For this had been the happiest, most perfect moment of his entire life.

Yes. Remus Lupin _loved_ Paris…


End file.
